


Earned It

by musicaldork



Category: Herbert West - Reanimator - H. P. Lovecraft, Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Riding, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicaldork/pseuds/musicaldork
Summary: It suddenly occurs to you how easily you’ll always acquiesce to him. You always do.And you know you’ll do it gratefully too.He’ll always make it worthwhile.Request: #42 with Herbert West with a gender-neutral reader + Herbert West with #67.
Relationships: Herbert West/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Earned It

For better or for worse, you accepted the things that came alongside loving a man like Herbert West.

You knew that being with someone like him would never be a relationship of the conventional sort, and that was alright. You wouldn’t ask that of him.  
You wouldn’t want him if he changed the core of who he were for you. It wouldn’t be him at all.

And you knew that, for all his many flaws and personal discrepancies - he loved you. He really did.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to _throttle_ him sometimes.

You had a feeling that he did it on purpose, as some sort of powerplay - borne from a desire to know just how badly you wanted him. 

...Well, goddamn him and his god complex if he left you so unsatisfied all the time!

Herbert would often spend only enough time away from his research to get you so worked up you wanted to weep.  
He’d kiss you and touch you only until another scientific idea caught his focus, fleeing to the basement and leaving you to roll over and take care of yourself, pent-up, frustrated and missing his touch more than anything.

Sure, it made the times where he did gratify you all the more worth it, but even so, he acted like a goddamn tease sometimes. It left you high-strung.  
  
How’d he like a taste of his own medicine?

If he wouldn’t give you his time of his own accord, you’d only have to seize it yourself.

That was what led you to the rather questionable decision of padding lightly down to the basement, devious intentions in hand.

“ _Do you need something?_ I’m working.”

The words are pointed, words jutting out a little, sharp with an irritation not truly directed towards you - likely rather his frustration with his work.

Easing the stressed crease of his brow with chaste kisses, you end up on his lap, untucking his dishevelled button-up. Your hands don’t stray just yet. You simply play with the hem, trailing your lips against the nervous flex of his jugular.

At this point, his words have lost their bite as he heaves out a quiet, long-suffering sigh, massaging his temples to relieve the unfortunate tension there.

You’re getting him.

“Is this what you came down here for? To distract me?”

You could hum out an agreement but instead, you quieten his complaints with another kiss.  
No longer chaste, this is now something deeper, slow and needy with laborious desire for him.  
He feels the shift in intent, his judgement suddenly clouded away from the thought of work. There are more pressing matters at hand..

The slow, deliberate drag of your tongue against his makes him shudder against the kiss, his fingers gripping you by the hips and pulling you in, just a little closer. 

You can feel him, already half-hard underneath you, and you can’t help but relish in the power you have over him - as momentary as it may be.

The reminder of why you came here comes back into sharp focus, almost lost in a haze of pleasured, punch-drunk kisses. Nobody’s a saint. So what if it’s a little petty? You think you’ve earned the right with how many times he’s stopped you cold.

Lightly prying him away from the kiss, your hands pressed firmly to his chest to place a tauntingly short amount of distance between the two of you.

“But... you have work right? If you’re really that busy, I guess I’ll just get off _all by myself_.”

He doesn’t miss the seductive tease in your honeyed tones, entirely too dazed to process what’s happening as you begin to pull yourself off of his lap, ready to head upstairs back to the bedroom.

As soon as he gains his bearings, Herbert doesn’t give you any chance to leave his grasp.  
You gasp at the semi-unexpected shock of being pulled back on top of him, bouncing in his lap, firmly in his steel-edged grip.

His nostrils flare with irritation as he sucks in a harsh, rattling breath, still a little breathless, worked-up from your teasing.

“Don’t take that tone with me. You want to be a _brat_ about it?”

The threat in his voice is evident, but you have no idea what he has in store.

Trepidation sets your every nerve alight, and god, if it doesn’t make you even wetter between the thighs. You’re so wet you can feel yourself drooling onto his pressed black slacks, though he doesn’t seem to care.

Making quick work of his zipper and buttons, you feel your mouth water as he exposes himself, taking himself in hand for only a moment.

When he taps your thigh in silent, reciprocal demand, you obediently raise yourself just enough to allow him to pull your underwear off, the discarded article hanging carelessly from an ankle.

You’re so wet and aching for him that you don’t even question his agenda as he begins to work his fingers inside you with practised impatience. You lose yourself to the feeling, putty in his hands.

Things don’t ever come so easily with him, do they?

You only realise that when he pulls his fingers away, fills you up in one delicious thrust then… doesn’t move at all.

_...what?_  
You’re so mindless with that pressing need for more friction that it takes you a moment to realise what he’s doing.

He raises an eyebrow, letting you come to your own conclusion before finally speaking up.

“You were the one who said it. So there - get off all by yourself then. I won’t help,” he sneers.   
Only the sweat on his face betrays him as anything other than calm, cool, collected - and entirely in control. How did he turn the tables so quickly on you?

It suddenly occurs to you how easily you’ll always acquiesce to him. You always do.

And you know you’ll do it gratefully too. 

He’ll always make it worthwhile.

The demand sends shockwaves up your spine. He’s not fucking you, rather you’re fucking yourself on him - it sounds frustrating. It sounds amazing.

You start a slow, juddering pace, trying your damnedest best to get yourself off on him.  
Herbert - the smug fucking _bastard_ \- only leans back and sadistically enjoys your efforts, taking him to the hilt and grinding down, raising yourself with shaky, burning thighs.

Your breath hitches into near-sobs as you try your best, but it’s just not enough.  
You need him to drive powerful, bruising thrusts into you more than you need air.

Working yourself helplessly on his cock, he only intervenes when you reach down to try and touch your clit. The firm grip he has on his wrist, blunt nails biting into the delicate skin there, the lack of stimulation to your neglected clit - that’s the last straw.

“Herbert! Would you _please_ just... fuck me properly!”

You’re almost blubbering at this point, tears catching at the corners of your eyes. You can’t control your own noises, the sounds bubbling up from somewhere deep and ravenous inside you.  
Every time, you find that bringing yourself up is almost unbearable, the muscles of your legs twitching and shaking wildly. But you can do nothing but chase that feeling.

There’s never been a sight more exquisite in his life.

Herbert openly shuns the idea of a god, but posits that if there is such thing as a heaven, he has found it squarely in you - and in the sight of you, whimpering and writhing with pleasure above him.

“If you want to cum, you’d better _beg_. _Properly_ , this time. You’ll only cum when you’ve convinced me you’ve _earned it_.”

His words are so cold. Were you in your right mind, you just might give him what for, but right now you bend to his will effective immediately.

There’s no place for pride when you need him to fuck you this badly.

“Herbert, please! Fuck, please just… I need… I want… you to fuck me, god...”

When he finally gives in, you think you’ve never been more thankful for anything in your life.

Thrusting up into you, he grabs your hips and pulls you down onto him with so much force it makes you squeal, his hand furiously working your clit.  
He gives you the delicious stretch you crave. The overload in pleasure is so sharp it almost hurts but fuck, if you don’t want so much more of it.

“This is what you needed, right? For me to give it to you good and hard - the way that only I can? You can’t get off like this by yourself, can you? I’ll ruin you for anything else-”

He’s mumbling words that you can barely understand through the haze of violent pleasure, but the harsh timbre of his voice only serves to send another thrum of arousal through your overwrought body.

It’s the last thing to need to bring you over the edge. You feel your vision white out at the edges at the blinding feeling.

There are desperate, wailing moans floating through the basement.  
You distantly note that these sounds seem to be coming from you, but you feel far too disconnected from reality to really care. There’s nothing but you and your climax, and the feeling of Herbert against your skin.

With a final grunt against your heated, sweat-drenched skin, he floods your insides with his warmth.

You bask in your afterglow, wrapped up in his arms where you feel safer than you’ve ever felt before.  
You could hardly care less about the stickiness between your thighs, his thick, white cum mixing with your own wetness, dripping down carelessly. 

You look a mess.  
You’re too tired to think about it too hard.

His resolve to work shot a long time ago, Herbert picks you up and leads you upstairs to the bedroom to clean you up and make sure you’re alright. You can’t see him, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder, but you’d truly be shocked by the uncharacteristic softness on his features.

_Just one night’s break won’t do any harm,_ he considers, steady with you in his arms.

You’ve surely earned it.


End file.
